Like footprints in the sand

I've done some nice diving this week, very aware that each dive brings me closer to my last dive here. Went surveying at THB, deep on 007, and led a navigation training dive with the advanced course. I saw a gurnard on the latter dive which is a very very cool fish to see.
Justin and I also had a lovely morning with Italo and Nina on Saturday. We paid to go out diving with them and though the dive was pretty shit - three metres visibility and a strong current meant we aborted after 15 minutes - I still enjoyed being a customer for a change! It was nice to hand over responsibility to someone else and we got to spend a few hours on the boat away from site. So it felt like a break, even if it wasn't the dive that we'd been hoping for.
Also this week was the 'medivac' operation. Becks, the medical students and a few helpful persons acted out some emergencies for us to respond to, in order to see how well we would cope under pressure, stress and if any real emergencies occurred. We did pretty well I think. They made it quite real and it was a good exercise to have done. We probably should do one each expedition.
Justin and I are not the only ones leaving. Tomorrow (Monday 21st July) Becks, our medic, leaves us. Hanta leaves too and will be missed by Lalao, her partner in crime and in seagrass surveying.
The women's association held a party last night and there was dancing and drinking and the usual epi-bar shenanigans. There were lots more drunken nahodas than usual - the togagash was flowing I think - and the old men and teenage boys a little bit more amorous in their dancing than they usually are. Justin and I stayed til about 12, when the five songs on rotation started to get a bit repetitive after the third, fourth or fifth time. We left most of the staff behind and a few of the volunteers, some of whom stayed til sunrise. There was no curfew.
I admire their tolerance - for alcohol, for being able to hear (and dance) to the same songs all night, and for putting up with the amorous men.
We retired with a few of the other volunteers to half moon beach with my ipod and speakers before heading to bed at 2am. Late for us. There's now only three more party nights left til we leave. Three weeks left til the end of the expedition. Then two more days after that. Then we leave. The clock is ticking.
When we arrived, I was hyper aware of everything - trying to take it all in and appreciate each aspect of being here. Somewhere in the middle, it began to be a bit more normal. Less remarkable. My level of awareness dipped. Now, it's back up again. Each time I trudge up the sandy hill to the batcave, I'm aware that there will be a last time for that short walk. I pay attention to the feel of the sand over my feet, to the sound of the sea and to the full moon in the night sky. It's my last full moon in Andavadoaka now.
I'm hyper aware of how the winter and dry season has changed the landscape. Walking across the football pitch on the way to the village this morning I realised that nothing now remains of the grass that grew during the brief rainy season. It's no longer a trodden down field of dusty green grass. It's back to being a very sandy dust bowl. The spiny forest is dry, and the road to the phone point sandy and hard to trudge through again. The kite flies past our hut late morning, regularly mobbed by the pied crows.
It's only been ten months, but somehow it almost feels like a full cycle of the year as things appear very similar to the way they were when we arrived. It's strange to think that the view from my hut that I've seen every day will soon be just a memory.
In ten days, my replacement will arrive and then we'll just be another two staff members from BV who came, stayed for the best part of a year and left again. Vainly, I hope that we'll be remembered positively. But who knows? I'm certain that the memories of Andavadoaka will stay longer with me than the memories of us will remain here. Since we've been here we've seen many staff members go and new ones arrive. The gap that you feel once they've left closes pretty rapidly and the staff turnover means that by this time next year, there may only be one fazahar staff member to remember us by.
Hopefully the Magalasy staff won't forget us too quickly though. I hope that I've made a positive difference overall - to BV, to the village and to the environment.